Nothing More
by ryoku1
Summary: Axel can't really define what they are any more, it all gets jumbled up in feelings that he apparently doesn't have. But he does know, that he doesn't like it.


He rolls out of bed later than usual. Its still earlier than most people in the castle, but for Axel, it's still late. As the days go by he finds it harder and harder to get up as he normally did. The lack of a sun hadn't hindered his internal clock from keep itself wound for the longest time; but as it stands he can feel that pendulum ticking back and forth slower than usual, a few seconds off, a few minutes off, a few hours off. Maybe it'll be a few days off soon. His perceptions are leaving him slowly, and he can feel them sliding off his back like ice cubes, leaving a cold slippery trail down his spine as it rapidly liquefies against warm flesh. Axel doesn't understand it, but also can't bring himself to care; it almost seems like a minor annoyance instead of a regression of consciousness.

What he does care about, is the hair. That has yet to change, and he clings to it almost violently. He stretches and finds himself in front of the small mirror, poking and prodding his hair, convincing and coercing it to do what its suppose to. He used to be chided for how much time he spent in front of the mirror, primping and preparing his hair for the day. He'd say that his style was important, and dismiss such teasing. He had wanted to look sharp, memorable. Now he wonders if he should just leave it down one day to see the responses he'll get. The thought makes him smile when he imagines the look on Roxas's face, a strange combination of bewilderment and curiosity. Axel would give that toothy grin and Roxas would ask silly questions as those big blue eyes blinked up at him. It could be fun. Roxas would certainly remember it.

Regardless, Axel finishes with his hair, and takes a few minutes to give himself a once over in the mirror. Once he's inspected his hair to his satisfaction, he gives a charming smile to his reflection and childishly strikes a pose. His reflection smiles back at him, and maybe it doesn't even look fake. Axel can't really tell if it is or isn't, so that'll do. His final ritual of preparation is to lean into the mirror so close that he can see his own breath start to cloud it up. He turns his head to the side and looks at his eye, wide and green, looking back at him. He's so close to the mirror that he can see the intricate pattern that forms his eye. By this time, it is a very familiar fusion of colors.

He counts the little black dots that make up the weave of his eyes, and shifts his head a little so that he can take a look at the spot hiding behind the glare of the light above him. Then he switches. He turns his head the other way, and inspects the other eye. Again, he counts the black little dots in his eye, same number as always.

Satisfied, he pulls away from the mirror, stretches his neck from one side to the other, and then rolls it around his shoulders. He'd say he's relieved, but really, it's all just a feeling of gray. He wonders what he would do if they were suddenly different, like he expects his eyes will be one day. Maybe he'll stop doing his hair when they change, because red and yellow clash. But for now, the red and green go perfectly, so Axel doesn't think too much on it. He'll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

Leisurely he strolls to the main hall. At this hour, it should be empty save one individual. Axel is not incorrect in his calculations, for Saix sits on one of the many couches. There are papers spread out on the small table in front of him, a pencil in hand, and a single sheet of paper held in close to him for inspection as he leans back into the cushions of the couch.

"You're late" Is the only greeting Axel gets. Instead of antagonizing Saix like he'd really like to, Axel pretends to yawn and plops down on the couch next to him. "You're a busy bee, as always. Get any sleep?" It may sound like concern, but really, Axel doesn't have much else to talk about, so this is often a good way to start the conversation for him. Kind of like the weather for normal people. If he's honest, he likes to at least pretend that they're still friends concerned about one another.

As usual Saix ignores his question, diverting the conversation to where he wants it to be. Axel has accepted that he can't have a regular conversation with Saix anymore. Saix is never interested in talking about himself, reminiscing, or listening to Axel complain, which is a large part of what they did when they were younger. "Is Roxas adjusting? Finishing his missions properly?"

Axel stretches out, lounging on the couch in unconventional ways, wondering if he'll be scolded for it. He gets away with a lot more these days than he used to. "He's doing good. He's getting along with everyone pretty well. He's a nice kid. We had ice cream at Twilight Town the other day."

"Axel" Saix doesn't look up from his paperwork, but he has that special tone that is reminiscent of caution. It would warm Axel up if it wasn't so cold. "He isn't a stray. Keys are for opening locks; nothing more, nothing less." This time Saix does shift those unnatural yellow eyes sideways to look at him, but otherwise doesn't turn to look at him. "It's best that you remember that."

Axel rolls his neck around, and stretches out his arms till they hang off the back of the couch, and his head and eyes are faced away from Saix. "You always give me the icky jobs."

"You're going to be sent off soon. Say your goodbyes, and be sincere about it." Axel shifts again, this time hoisting his feet up onto the table, ignoring the paperwork that litters it's surface. "A long one then. Where to and who with?" He tilts his head towards Saix inquisitively, curving his long neck as he does.

Saix makes no move to make Axel get his feet off of his paperwork, but instead places the paper he was holding on the table, leans back into the couch, and crosses his arms over his chest. "Sora has been sighted around Castle Oblivion. Dealing with him is, imperative. Six of you will be going. Cooperation is also imperative." And there is that glimmer in Saix eyes, that dangerous glint that once meant mischief and now means something entirely different.

Axel gives him that look; that sick, sticky, smile, look that made him feel dirty. What a pair they are. "Are we trimming the hedges this early in the season?" Saix leans his head back, letting the cushion envelop him and make him look smaller than he is. He looks up at the ceiling for a few seconds before angling his neck straight once more and looking forward, his eyes half lid, but sharp. "The sooner the better; parasites are best dealt with swiftly."

"You're such an asshole. Got your spare key and you're done with the lock smith." Axel leans his head back craning his neck till he can feel the skin bunch at the nape of his neck, and folds his hands at the back of his head, his elbows pointed outwards. "Someone is already vying for their own key without asking permission. Having any more made would be a liability. It's best to deal with the situation quickly instead of waiting for someone to make the next move. There will be five going with you. The casualties might be higher than expected."

Lazily Axel holds up one hand, flexing his fingers back and forth. "Vexen and Marluxia." He puts down two fingers, leaving three more up in the air. "Larxene?" He reaches over to grab one of those fingers, and when Saix nods, he put down the finger as well, returning one hand to the base of his head. "Two more. Vexen won't go alone, so, Lexeaus?" His answer is another nod. Axel puffs, and brings his other hand back to join the other, weaving his fingers together. "Well that's a shame. He's such an upstanding guy. It'll be a pain to deal with him."

Saix shifts his head to the side and closes his eyes. "Play your cards right, and you won't have to. He'd smash you to pieces if you got in the way of that axe of his. Take a page from my book and play it smart."

Axel pretends to pout to hide his displeasure and angles a glare at Saix. "Are you calling me dumb?" As usual, Saix ignores him in favor of another subject.

"Zexion is who you need to look out for. If you let him sit and think for too long, he'll catch you in a web. Take care of the other two first." Axel nods in understanding and agreement. "The chess master is only good if he's still got pieces to move." Once again, he shifts, this time taking his feet off the table to place them on the ground, and leans over to rest his arms on his knees. He turns his head to give Saix an irritated look. "And what about me? Who are you coercing to deal with that? What if I tell them all that you're scheming to have them done in?"

Saix actually turns to look at him after that comment, but his arms remain crossed, and those damned yellow eyes that make him look like a monster stare at Axel impassibly. "I would prefer if you returned. But, should you fail, I have confidence that Roxas would be heartbroken." The small tilt of his lip is the only indication that Saix finds that statement amusing. "All joking aside, your murderer, Sora, would have to be dealt with. Without a doubt young Roxas would want the opportunity to avenge you. With a spare key already, we don't need both. Your death would be useful, but your life is more useful. Remember that."

Axel's glare intensifies, but it was like slamming your head against a wall; the wall doesn't care, and your head hurts afterwards. So Axel eventually gives up, hangs his head, and sighs. "I'm so flattered."

He can feel those unnatural yellow eyes looking at him impassively, but Axel doesn't straighten up to meet them. Saix surprises him when he starts speaking, but it isn't anything Axel wants to hear. "Flames make no distinction between friend or foe. They revitalize through destruction, but if not tended to, a flame will destroy itself. It can't maintain its own intensity. Remember that." Axel wants to tell Saix that the moon is just a big dumb rock reflecting light that isn't its own, eternally stuck in something else's gravitational pull until it either escapes or crashes into its host, likely destroying both; but that would be childish. He'd add an obnoxious 'Remember it' at the end too, just for effect. Yes, he's the childish one here.

Instead, he just lets his head hang, and sighs again. How had they ended up like this? Axel doesn't know. Once upon a time they'd been friends and they'd spent their days play fighting and eating ice cream. Now everything is so much more complicated, and the person sitting next to him is a stranger in his friends skin.

There is simply nothing to be done about it. If something had broken between the two of them, Axel hadn't noticed till far too late, he knows that now. A change of subject would be best. "Sora. Think he knows about Roxas?" Axel gives Saix time to answer, or nod, or anything, but a response isn't forthcoming, so he continues, lifting his head to look forward instead of down. "It's odd, for Sora and Roxas to exist at the same time. I'd hate to have someone running around with my face, defending justice and peace and all that junk."

The pause that permeates the air is a strange one. It almost feels like a solid wall, and it is undeniably stifling. He's stumbled onto something; something very important, but he doesn't know why. After what seemed like a very long time, Saix finally speaks. "Sora and Roxas are different. You'll understand when you meet him."

Axel leans back, placing his feet on the table once more, his hands going to the back of his head. This is definitely an interesting reaction on Saix part, and undeniably Axel is curious, besides, any response out of Saix is worth pursuing. He doesn't want to let it go just yet. "Of course, Sora has a heart and Roxas doesn't. But it makes you wonder, if Sora got back his heart, and Roxas still exists, does finding our hearts even matter? I mean, we keep looking for our hearts so we can go back to normal, but if Roxas and Sora are still different people, we're still not going to be normal, even if we find our hearts."

Saix's answer is curt, to the point, and a little more aggressive than it regularly is. "Sora and Roxas are different. You'll understand later."

"Later, Later, Later. You can't ever give me a solid answer to anything." His patience is running thin, and Axel has never been good at reining in his temper. "Get close to Roxas, don't get close to Roxas. Come back, don't come back. Everything is just a variable to you; probabilities and predictions."

Axel pretends he can hear that petulant huff in Saix's voice that is so familiar from their childhood; the one that would puff out his cheeks and send his blue eyes crinkling into an irritated frown, but realistically, Saix's voice is dead, cold and sharp. "Acting like you have a heart doesn't mean you have one." Saix goes about getting his papers in order, moving Axel's feet when it's necessary, and standing once they are all in hand.

"The others will be waking up soon. Say your goodbyes and be prepared to leave when next I contact you." The clicking of Saix's boots against the polished floor reverberates around walls and the large ceilings of the room till they seem to mock him.

Axel leans back his head to the point that he can see Saix walking away behind him. From this angle nothing about Saix is even remotely familiar. Maybe he should always look at things from a different perspective.

"Bye, Isa." The clicking of the boots stops, and for a moment it seemed like Saix is going to turn around and do something, but he straightens himself, and keeps walking. Axel doesn't know what he had expected, but he rationalizes that he should have expected nothing more, nothing less.


End file.
